


Restless

by Spiderlily_Writes



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, First Time, Stress Relief, affirmations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:22:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29844903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiderlily_Writes/pseuds/Spiderlily_Writes
Summary: It's the night before the final battle, and Angeline can't sleep, nor can her partner, Byleth. They find a way to work out some of that restless energy.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 1





	Restless

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! A follower request featuring their OC, Angeline Artorius II Pendragon, and M!Byleth. Enjoy!

Angeline squirms beneath her blankets, sleep continuing to elude her. She’s been trying for the last few hours, but can’t manage to catch a single moment of shut-eye. She supposes that’s normal. How is one supposed to sleep, the night before doing battle against the Church of Seiros—against Rhea herself? It was, perhaps, foolish to expect. So she stops trying, casting off her covers with a groan of frustration.

She pulls on her robe and shoes, not really thinking about where she’s going, but knowing that anywhere is better than here. She pushes open the flap of her tent and steps out into the night, her feet carrying her automatically to her destination.

It’s a short walk across the war camp; all of the officers are in the same area, for ease of communication. She passes tent after tent, giving them little thought. At least, until she ends up in front of Byleth’s. Angeline sighs. She should have known this was where she would find herself. And as much as she knows she shouldn’t bother him the night before such a large, critical engagement, well…

She might be royalty, yes, but she’s only human.

So she takes a breath and taps the tent-pole near the door. Angeline is surprised when there’s an answer almost immediately.

“Come in,” calls Byleth. He sounds distracted, as though he’s working on something, but her need for personal comfort manages to override her self-consciousness, and she enters as requested.

He’s sitting at a small portable desk close to the back wall. His tent is sparse—perhaps even more sparse than her own—with only a desk, a chair, a cot, and a single trunk that contains his clothing and any necessities he deemed important enough to bring. He’s utilitarian, very concerned with ensuring he has exactly what he needs in order to get the job done, and not a single bit more. It’s something she loves about him. He’s careful. Exact. Never wastes a single moment or movement.

Byleth looks up at her, blinking eyes that don’t look the least bit tired.

“Professor,” Angeline says, maintaining a veneer of propriety for just a moment, before her expression softens into a tired smile that belies her twenty five years and makes her feel much older. He returns her exhausted expression with one of his own. They’re not afraid to bare their feelings to each other; not anymore.

“Majesty,” he shoots back, and she huffs out a small laugh.

“Was that a joke? From  _ you _ ?” Angeline sighs. “I suppose you can’t sleep either, then?”

With a shake of his head, Byleth sets aside the map he had been poring over before she entered. “No. There’s too much to do. I’m…” For a moment, he seems like he struggles to find the right word. “I’m  _ worried _ , Angeline. I need to see this through to the end. And I want to bring all of our friends home alive, but I feel like that might be too much to ask.”

She moves to his cot and, for lack of anywhere else to sit, parks herself there, making it clear she’s ready to listen. If she absolutely  _ must _ bother Byleth, she can at least hear his worries. Angeline can’t count how many times he’s done the same for her.

“We’ve survived some gruesome battles together, Byleth, and brought everyone home. This will be no different.” She tried to sound a little more certain than she felt. He doesn’t seem to buy it completely, and he puts his head in his hands, resting his elbows on his desk.

“Perhaps. This just feels…different. I’m not used to being this stressed. Having this many lives in my hands…” He sighs. “In many ways, it still feels brand new.”

This gives Angeline pause. What a burden he must bear, but it’s one she knows well. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, and so on. “Well,” she begins. “If neither of us can sleep alone, perhaps we’d have better luck together?”

He looks up at her, and she lets a wry smile slip onto her lips. “If you wish, of course. I don’t want to pressure you into anything, but—”

“No, that sounds nice, Angeline. Thank you. I could probably stand to at least give sleep a try.”

Byleth blows out the candle on his desk, plunging the room into near complete darkness, save for the little bit of moonlight that sneaks in through the gap in the tent’s flap. It’s disorienting, until she blinks a few times and lets her eyes adjust.

In the faint light, she sees Byleth stand up from his chair, a definite weariness pressing down on him as he walks. He is strong, as he always has been, but he looks so very tired, too. It’s a few short steps to the cot, and it isn’t until he eases himself down next to her that she notes the flaw in her plan.

“Oh. Your cot is…a bit small, isn’t it?”

He nods. “It served me well enough, but I’ve never tried to have two people on it. I understand if you would like to—”

“No, this is just as well. We will just have to be fairly close together.” Angeline is pleased about the low light, so he cannot see how her face heats up. “As long as you are not bothered, of course.”

“It…suits me fine. Thank you.”

Byleth was already in his nightclothes—or, at least what she presumes to be his nightclothes. It’s a simple shirt and pair of short trousers, both of which seem like they’ve seen better days. She, with some hesitation, sheds her robe and lets it fall to the rug that serves as the tent’s floor.

Angeline and Byleth have had a relationship full of questions. The walks of life from which they’ve come could scarce be more different, and yet their attraction to one another has been undeniable. She had pined for him quite intensely before he had disappeared, following Edelgard’s coup on the Monastery. Once he’d returned, she’d made her feelings plain.

The two of them have done much together. They’ve embraced, they’ve kissed, they’ve fallen asleep in each other’s arms, but there is one bridge they have not crossed. And tonight? Well. When the future is so uncertain, it makes Angeline feel as though it is not a time to leave things unsaid, or undone.

She sneaks a glance back at Byleth and sees that he’s staring at her, while trying to not make it obvious that he’s doing so. Some might find his difficulties with social graces boorish or unbecoming, but Angeline can’t help but find them precious. And more than a little relatable.

So, uncertain and trembling, but knowing exactly what she wants to do, Angeline turns to face him, meets his gaze, sees the desire there, and leans in to kiss her partner with all the passion she can muster.

He freezes for a moment, but  _ only _ for a moment. Byleth melts into Angeline’s kiss, lifting his arms and wrapping them around her to keep her close, and Angeline certainly doesn’t pull away. Her nightdress is thin, and she can feel the heat of his body, even through their clothing. It’s wonderful, she doesn’t know that she could ever get enough of the sensation, so she continues to kiss him, deeper and deeper, slipping her tongue past his lips and into his mouth.

The tactician groans, making way for her without hesitation, and Angeline presses the advantage as far and as hard as she can. Without even breaking the kiss—and with more giddy excitement than skill—she repositions herself onto his lap, straddling him, as Byleth renews his grip. One arm goes around her waist, while the other slides up to the back of her neck. He holds her more like he’s scruffing a kitten than handling a lover, but knowing that he’s as eager as she is only spurs Angeline on more.

The kiss breaks for just long enough for them to suck down some air, before Byleth takes advantage of the moment of peace to dive for her neck and press his lips to the sensitive skin there, sucking lightly. Angeline hisses at the twinge of pain that’s quickly replaced by a rush of pleasure, and she tangles a hand up in his mint-green hair.

“Byleth,  _ Goddess _ ,” she breathes, grinding down against him. She can feel… _ something _ , in between her legs, and though Angeline might be a little more ignorant than some in matters of physical affection, she is no fool. She knows what she’s doing do him, and she wants more of it. Her anxiety, a pent-up barely contained knot in her stomach, is replaced with a burning need to have him, and have him  _ now. _

Angeline tugs on his hair again, drawing a groan from him, and she loves how it sounds. She loves that  _ she’s _ the one making him feel so wonderful, and she never wants to stop. As Byleth makes his way down to where bare skin ends and the collar of her nightdress begins, he places a few more small, insistent kisses upon her, and she gets the message.

Though she’s reluctant to remove her arms from where they’re wrapped around his torso, Angeline does so, just long enough to pull her nightdress off over her head and cast it aside, leaving only her smallclothes, such a thin, cloth barrier between herself and her beloved.

Byleth takes a moment to look at her, his eyes apparently having adjusted to the dark, and even in that nighttime darkness, she can see the glint of something hungry there. Angeline shivers as he leans in and nibbles softly at one of her now-bare breasts, seemingly as enamored with her as she is of him.

But she doesn’t want him to feel left out, of course. So Angeline uses the hand not buried in Byleth’s hair to tease down to his waist, then up under the hem of his nightshirt. She feels the taut muscle there, lets her fingers dance over the scars on his skin, and relishes the shudder it brings over him when she does. She doesn’t really know what she’s doing, but she knows she wants to touch Byleth, and she’s going to take every opportunity she can get.

When she runs a hand up to his chest and over one beautiful pectoral, she flicks at his nipple with her fingernail, giggling when he sucks in a sharp, surprised breath. The giggle turns into a yelp when he bites down on her own, then swirls his tongue around the rapidly stiffening tip.

“N-No fair,” Angeline whines, and the husky chuckle Byleth gives her is enough to set her whole body on fire. “I bet you’re an expert at this kind of thing, hmm?”

“Not at all,” he says, and she actually blinks, shocked. “I’ve…never done this before,” he admits, breathing the words against her. “Is that okay?”

She can’t believe it. Byleth, beautiful as he is? But she supposes it does make sense, he’s been busy for most of his adult life, and it’s not as though the war has left him much time to dally. Indeed, if it’s possible for this to be her first time, why not for him?

“Of course that’s okay. It’s…I mean, it’s mine as well. I-I’m glad it’s with you.”

A moment of pause, and of silence. One. Two. Three. She feels her face flush. Did she say something wrong? Something untoward? Is that too much pressure?

Her questions are answered when he pulls away from her chest, meets her eyes, and closes in for a heated, passionate, needy kiss on the lips. From one such as Byleth, someone who, to others, might seem cold, or distant, to feel that  _ heat _ from him…it’s more wonderful than she could describe. And so Angeline kisses him back with her whole heart going into the gesture.

With _one_ _hand_ , Byleth lifts Angeline off of his lap—she hasn’t really considered before just how strong he is, but it makes sense, really—and with the other, he pulls his trousers down to his knees before replacing her atop him. She gasps as she feels his shaft, warm, pulsing against her, and she can’t fight the urge to grind down again, against him. But why would she _want_ to fight it? So she does, once, twice, drawing a growl from Byleth that could only be described as _hungry._

He reaches down between her legs and tugs her smallclothes to the side, not even bothering to remove the offending garment that is currently the only thing between the two of them. Without further ado, and knowing exactly what Byleth is after, Angeline adjusts her angle slightly and sinks down onto Byleth, wringing gasps from both of them.

Angeline pauses for a moment, breathing hard, just… _ feeling _ him inside her. She doesn’t think she’s ever felt so full before, and it’s as thought they were  _ made _ for each other. He’s just the right size—not too big, not too small. Her nails dig into his back and bring lines of fire across the skin there when he shifts slightly, and catches her off guard.

Byleth grunts at the pain, but he doesn’t stop her, or pull her arm away. “Are you okay?” he asks, legitimate concern coloring his words, and it’s deeply touching. As touching at it is, though, Angeline doesn’t want to stop to discuss it.

“Yes, I…I am fine,” she says, forcing the words out through gritted teeth. “Byleth, can…can I move? Please?”

He nods, and she doesn’t need told twice. Angeline’s hands come up to Byleth’s shoulders and she shifts, experimentally, using him for support. He winces—she hopes from unexpected pleasure, not pain—and places his own hands on her hips. They’re callused and strong and so  _ sturdy _ , and she shivers as she feels those rough palms brushing against her skin.

Angeline moves once more, raising herself up, and lowering herself back down. It’s a workout, to be sure, requiring more effort than she might have imagined, but it’s worth it for what it does to her dear Byleth’s face. He gasps at her, looks up at Angeline like she’s the Goddess herself, and it’s one of the most lovely things she’s ever seen.

“Angeline, I—” he begins, but falls off as she swivels her hips and makes him whimper. She laughs, she’s having  _ far  _ too much fun with this.

“You what?” she teases, working to find a steady rhythm that doesn’t overwhelm either one of them. It takes a few tries, but her muscles, honed by hundreds of hours of training and battle alike allow her to move with more freedom than perhaps most would find in such a position.

Byleth helps, too, lifting her as she moves up, finding her rhythm, falling into sync with her without a word. The two of them, as always, make a perfect team.

As they go, Angeline mixes her movements up a little. A swirl here, a change of pace there, a little extra force once or twice, and she feels as though she might finally be getting the hang of it. She’s always been a quick learner, after all, and this is no different.

All the while, she feels that passion beginning to build in her abdomen. She feels that tension, that fire, growing and swelling, like flames in brush, and she knows she must be approaching a climax. It’s not a new feeling for her, but she’s never experienced it with anyone else, and for that alone, it’s even more wonderful.

It’s clear the effect all of this is having on Byleth, too. His eyes are soft, but filled with that same determination they always are. He’s looking up at her with naught but adoration, and she returns it just as well. Between that, the thin sheen of sweat on his skin, and his desperate, strangled cries as she moves atop him, she knows he must be getting close as well.

“Byleth, oh Byleth,” Angeline breathes, moving one hand from his shoulder to his cheek. “You’re so beautiful, are you going to come for me? Please?  _ Please? _ ”

Her voice pitches up as she speaks, and she grits her teeth as she tries to hold back for just one more moment, just a second, just enough time to bring him over that edge with her, but she breaks. Pleasure blows through Angeline hard enough to make her dizzy, and she’s thankful for Byleth’s hands keeping her steady as she feels the ecstasy rock through her.

She knows she’s tensing around him; she can  _ feel _ herself doing it, and that seems to be too much for him to bear, because Byleth gasps, holds her hips down on his own, and keeps her steady as the bliss takes him, too.

When they both return to themselves, Angeline finds that she’s panting softly, her head is on his shoulder, her eyes are closed, and she feels an unbelievable full-body ache. She shudders. Her endurance finally ran out, it seems.

She can hear Byleth breathing too, can feel his chest pressing against her own, then retreating slightly. It’s a lovely sound, and she simply enjoys the music of their mingled breaths and heartbeats. Byleth is the first to stir, and his hands tense on her slightly.

“Angeline, that was…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t have to. “Yes, I agree,” she says, knowing full-well that it’s the understatement of the century. They share an easy laugh, before Byleth takes a hand from her and uses it to tilt her chin up for another kiss. This one is warm and impassioned, as before, but there’s something more comfortable about it. More secure. They taste each other for a moment, and when they break for air, Angeline speaks.

“I love you,” she whispers. “I…I’m sure you know that, already. But I do.”

Ordinarily, such a confession would fill her with terror until she received a response, but tonight, she knows exactly what he will say.

“I love you, too,” Byleth murmurs.

The two of them remain that way for another several minutes, Angeline positive that she’s going to doze off, but unbothered, for she knows Byleth will keep her steady. As he always has.

And when sleep comes for them, later, they give over to it willingly, knowing neither will face the dawn alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading, and thanks to my fabulous editor [tansybells](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/tansybells/pseuds/tansybells). If you would like to follow me on twitter, find me [@spiderlilywrite](https://twitter.com/spiderlilywrite).


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